


Stomachaches

by bloodnuns



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Suicide, do not keep reading if you are sensitive to that stuff, literally this is about frank killing himself, this is a suicide scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6868054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodnuns/pseuds/bloodnuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Frank falls in love with Mikey and fucks it up, and Frank is best friends with Pete who is dating Brendon. I wrote this as a catharsis for myself months ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stomachaches

Sunny with a high of 75, that was the forecast for today. It was a nice day and Frank had taken advantage of it by skateboarding for a few hours. He came home sweaty and out of breath and ready to practice for the show tonight. He put himself in the shower to wash off the stench and afterward slipped himself into his favorite Misfits t-shirt and worn jeans. Like the rest of his clothing, his jeans had holes in them and maybe that was more a metaphor for his life recently than it was about any of the garments hanging in his closet.

 

He'd written a song yesterday. One that captured everything he felt was making his ribs cave in and break while the jagged pieces of the bones tore their way through his lungs and his heart. He felt like he was hemorrhaging very slowly from the inside and all of the color in his world was slowly draining as his blood filled his chest. The only thing he tasted anymore was metal and he couldn't tell if that was because he was biting the bullet or throwing up blood. Part of him begged the universe to be struck down by lightening so that he'd have a good excuse to go into cardiac arrest, but he knew the odds of that were about on par with the odds of winning the lottery, or being normal.

 

Given all of that, Frank felt a small sense of pride at his own play on words. Tragician. He felt like he had the innate ability to make a tragedy where there previously wasn't one. Like magic but with all of the worst things you'd never want your loved ones exposed to. Part of him was happy for the color drain, in a twisted sort of way. At least in black and white no one would ever be able to see the red that spilled from him, however it chose to do so. He put on his best face. As much as he loved Pete, and as well as Pete knew him; Frank always found solace in the fact that if he really didn't want Pete to know something, he could hide it. And this was something that he would take to his grave. He wanted Pete to be happy, and from what he'd seen of his best friend with Brendon, he was confident that Brendon would be able to make him happy. In ways that Frank would never be able to. Brendon was better suited for it. The blind couldn't lead the blind and if all of Frank's colors were leaving him now then who's to say how much longer he'd be able to see at all.

 

One thing he was grateful for was the lack of anxiety before the show that night. He didn't feel like he was going to fuck it up, or maybe he just didn't care if he did. They went on stage and for a second Frank was very glad to see everyone smiling up at him, he wished that this is what he could think about for the rest of his small forever, but he knew that it wouldn't be. They played through their set. Frank thrashed around like he usually did and fucked with everyone on stage like he usually did. He was very good at calculating his own actions in order to keep his true emotions under the radar. He hadn't told his band about the last song, mostly because he wanted to do this one on his own. He told them that he had one last song to play before they pulled the curtains, and they granted him the time to do so. He was alone, ten feet above everyone's heads, baring his soul for God and the world. He hoped God had a sense of humor, because if not then everything after this was going to be shit.

 

_ I am my own worst enemy, and I hate me. _

 

He felt like if there were ever a line that could sum up his life, it would be that one. He was very good at getting in his own way, and maybe that's why this performance was so easy for him. He felt too small to get in his own way right now.

 

_ Most days I can't believe I'm still here, most days I'm surprised. _

 

Pete should have known then that something was wrong, but Frank was good at not showing how things affected him. Maybe, in the next life, he would explain all of this to his best friend.

 

_ It's crazy you stuck with me. Most days I can't believe you're still here. Most days I heard you cry. _

 

Maybe in the next life he'd explain it to _him_ , too. He'd explain to him that he was born broken, that he would never have been able to be the man that he needed because he simply wasn't born to be the person anyone needed. Frank wasn't born whole, and he couldn't pretend like he was anymore.

 

_ I still remember how I made you feel once upon a time. _

 

And as much as he wished the would think of all the smiling faces for the rest of his little forever, he knew that wouldn't be the reality. It would be _him_. It would be the glaciers behind his eyes that shipwrecked his heart and sunk him into oblivion. It would be the chestnut of his hair that smelled like home and invited him to stay until only his bones remained. It would be the quicksand of his skin that sucked him under and suffocated him. It would be the siren song of the way that Mikey said his name that drowned him and brought on the sweetest deaths.

 

He had died and been reborn so many times before this, maybe he could do it one more time.

 

He didn't remember walking off stage. He didn't remember coming home. And he certainly didn't remember how he came to sit in his bedroom, staring at a handful of Atavan tablets that he'd stolen from Pete. He didn't want to remember the rest of it either, and this was his ticket out. Frank's fist met his mouth and the pills tasted like corporations and dirty money. They were chemical and unforeseen and he was ready to embrace the cold that would surround him. One last Coke to wash it all down. He laid back on his bed. The light was off and The Smiths was playing on his stereo.

 

_ To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. _

 

But if he really didn't have the option to die by Mikey’s side, then maybe imagining that he was next to him would be enough. He welcomed the stabbing pain in his stomach, because it overtook the pain from the shards of bone that had worked their way into his heart. Stomachaches were something that he'd dealt with his entire life, maybe now he could get some rest.

  
  



End file.
